


On Insanity

by vtn



Category: The Network (Band)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-19
Updated: 2006-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with Dr. Svengali inspires Fink to indulge in some pursuits that perhaps skirt the edge of sanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Contains references to self-harm (as kink).

These are the times in one’s life when one considers insanity as not only a definite possibility but also as a logical solution. Perhaps, Wilhelm realizes, insanity has actually been the problem all along, but it is quite easily solved by more of the same. If he’s insane, it’s much easier to see difficulties as diversions, roadblocks as detours, and former shames as excuses to have a good wank on the Doctor’s toilet as he gazes into the gorgeous fucking lines in the expensive marble with which the Doctor covers as many floors as he can.

Let Wilhelm be the first to tell you, there is little more beautiful than lying on that floor, flicking a drop of water (or better yet, blood) onto that marble floor and blowing it softly, watching it fall into the flaws in the marble and create three-dimensional patterns of its own.

Wilhelm decides that when considering insanity, blood is a good place to start. Insane people often seem to have some sort of thing to do with blood. Some of them scream or vomit at the sight of it, others like it a little bit too much to be considered normal. Wilhelm firmly places himself in the second category, and briefly considers opening up one of his many scabs before deciding that he doesn’t want to be the sort of insane person who self-harms. He doesn’t want to be the sort of insane person who harms others, either, at least not so much that he gets himself on the news. Until the day comes, they will not know his name. No, he’d rather be the sort of person who thinks up detailed, perfect ways to harm others, and then either masturbates to them or turns them into statements that fit into a template of ‘I want to blank you until blank happens’ and whispers them into the ear of his lover before letting the man fuck him past the second level of Hell and well into the seventh. 

And then blood will be shed, indeed.

Wilhelm is beginning to grasp the whole theory that adults always drill into your head about sharing and how it benefits the sharer more than anyone else. Although he doesn’t think they were referring to fantasies of the world going up in flames, but then it takes all kinds, doesn’t it?

No, it doesn’t. It takes one kind; specifically, his. That’s the only kind that makes changes, that instead of settling for making little ripples or splashes in the proverbial pool chooses to toss a ten-ton boulder in. Or, when that gets boring, a ten-ton chunk of pure sodium, and watch the flames rise to heights beyond reason. Wilhelm could definitely go for being the sort of insane person that likes to set things on fire.

And so he does. He flicks out his lighter and, so fast he hardly feels a touch, kisses the flame before lighting himself a clove and watching the smoke he exhales find its way to the cracked-open window. Here in the Doctor’s penthouse, he feels like a movie villain, smoking in the twilight with a city just far enough below him to feel like it’s in his grasp.

Wilhelm finishes the cigarette and puts it out on his arm, hissing at the subsequent surge of pain up to his shoulder.   He watches a few singed hairs on his arm turn orange and stand up, then fade to black and fall to the floor. Leaning over in his chair, he wipes up the ash with his thumb. Best not to mar that perfect marble. Wilhelm figures he’s the sort of insane person who worries about those things.


End file.
